


When It Happens

by matildajones



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 12:24:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2772911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matildajones/pseuds/matildajones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles turns his head and looks up at his friend.<br/>“Have you ever thought about it?” Derek asks.<br/>“What?”<br/>“Thought about us dating.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	When It Happens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kappy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kappy/gifts).



> Happy Holidays to [somethingaboutwerewolves](http://somethingaboutwerewolves.tumblr.com/) :)

 In the beginning, Derek was simply exasperated with Stiles; the way he would lounge about, the way he’d never take anything seriously, pretending he didn’t care about being on the bench. It tickled Derek more than it should, being captain, and he’d roll his eyes whenever Stilinski’s name was mentioned.

 It changed in Derek’s head somewhat, his opinion of this mouthy guy, when one game Stiles had gotten the last few minutes on the field and he had looked so happy with himself, happy that he hadn’t fucked anything up. His cheeks were pink with exertion and pleasure, waving to his father in the crowd, and the coach had nodded at him when he came off the field. It was clear that he liked the game, that it was something that he wanted despite the things that sometimes came out of his mouth.

 Derek sort of wanted to see that carefree look again. He offered to work with him on the field.

 Stiles was sceptical when Derek approached him, running his eyes down Derek’s body. But he shrugged and accepted, expecting it to go badly but was pleasantly surprised when it didn’t.

 That was in their third year of high school. Now senior year faces them and they’re really good friends.

 Derek smiles at half the things Stiles says, hiding his expression behind his books. Stiles will see it anyway, feeling oddly light whenever he makes his friend laugh. It’s easy. Good.

 Stiles will sometimes stay the night at Derek’s. The first time he’d slept on a blow up mattress, but the air started to leak out and half way through the night Stiles got up and shoved Derek over so that they could both fit on the bed.

 Derek had grumbled, grumbled quite a lot actually, but he had still moved over and they had slept with their sides presses together, hot under the covers, too tired to think anything of it.

 Their friends rarely see Stiles without a cheeky look on his face when he’s around Derek, and Stiles is the only person who seems to bring such frequent smiles to Derek’s otherwise gloomy expression. Mostly it’s because Stiles is being ridiculous.

 The first time someone asks if they’re dating, they both stand in silent surprise.

 “Um,” Stiles says, glancing over at Derek. “No?”

 Their gazes meet and they burst out laughing, gripping the other’s shoulder to stay standing. Whoever asked glares at them, walking away stubbornly as the two giggle next to each other.

 “It’s a nice thought,” Stiles says kindly, patting Derek’s shoulder. “But no, sorry.”

 Derek grins at him. “I’m not offended, don’t worry.”

 They tell their friends who roll their eyes, but other than that they forget about it. It doesn’t change anything, really. They don’t think of it again until the next time someone brings it up.

 It still doesn’t stop them from sleeping in the same bed together after a night full of movies and video games. Derek always complains whenever Stiles’ feet are cold, and Stiles always snaps sleepily – “Derek, if it’s such a problem, go get me a pair of socks and you can put them on my feet yourself.”

 Derek shuts up, but five minutes later he sweeps the covers back, ignoring Stiles’ groan, and he rummages in a drawer and finds some mismatched socks.

 He grabs Stiles’ ankle and yanks him down the bed.

 “Really,” Stiles says flatly, glaring at him.

 Derek gives him a dirty look, stuffing one sock on. When he gets to the other foot he’s already discovered that putting socks on someone else’s feet isn’t very easy.

 “Your cold feet are a menace,” Derek says at his friend, and then he proceeds to tickle Stiles’ bare skin. He yelps, swearing, but it’s not long before he’s giggling, snatching at Derek to pull him on the bed so he can attack his ribs.

 Through the dark they laugh until their bodies ache with it, trying not to be too loud because Stiles’ father is in the next room. Derek collapses with half of his body on Stiles, half on the mattress. Stiles has one sock on, the both of them too tired to move, and they fall asleep half on each other.

**

 Stiles comes into Derek’s house, out of the blue, looking tired and hair sticking up in all sorts of directions. Derek’s doing homework on his bed and Stiles falls onto him without warning, Derek’s breath leaving his lungs in a little huff.

 “Shitty day,” Stiles mumbles against his shirt, snuggling in closer. He clings to Derek, one hand gripping his shirt tight. They say nothing and Stiles falls asleep.

 Derek tries to finish his homework but it’s a little difficult when there’s another body on your own. He’s too awake to sleep himself, so he settles for running a hand through Stiles’ hair. He moves the brown locks past Stiles’ sweaty forehead, scratching a little at his scalp. It’s nice.

 There’s a knock on his door and Derek’s mother peeks through the open gap. “Derek, honey, will you empty a dishwasher please?” She stops when she sees Stiles on Derek’s chest.

 She gives him a knowing look.

 Derek rolls his eyes and waves her away. Eventually, he lets Stiles sleep, pushing him off his body before he heads downstairs. He has some spit and drool on his shirt but Derek doesn’t really care. His mother asks when Stiles came over and Derek shrugs.

 “And were you ever going to tell me that you started dating?” she says. Derek ignores her.

 When Stiles comes downstairs his eyes are a little red and he’s wearing one of Derek’s massive jumpers. He gets asked, too, when they got together, and he’s offered some baking. Stiles talks around his food.

 “We’re not together. Derek has his eye on this girl at the video store.” He snorts. “He’s such a loser; he can’t even talk to a girl.”

 Derek’s mother is a little surprised by how little disappointed Stiles is.

 They’re friends, after all.

**

 There’s this one awkward time when Stiles comes to Derek’s unannounced, again. Stiles walks in on him, laptop open at the edge of his bed, Derek wearing nothing but his sports socks and boxers, dick sticking out of his waist band with his hand around it, looking ... looking really good.

 Stiles’ mouth drops open as he stands frozen in place. There are breathy sounds coming from the speakers and coming from Derek, and then they both look at each other. Neither of them moves and Stiles has clearly got an eyeful.

 “Sorry!” he manages to get out, before turning around and running down the stairs.

 Stiles hears the shower running before Derek comes down, hair wet and actually wearing clothes. He stops at the door and they make awkward eye contact, both of their cheeks flushed, before Stiles rolls his eyes and moves over on the couch. Derek sits next to him. Their thighs touch, and it feels like more of a comfort through the awkwardness.

 “I hope you didn’t have a cold shower because of me,” Stiles says, voice higher than usual. He picks up the remote and starts to flick through the tv channels.

 Derek looks down. “Uh, no. Don’t worry. I showered afterwards.”

 “How decent of you,” Stiles says dryly, shoving Derek’s side. It says a lot about how it doesn’t really change anything about their friendship. Stiles just saw Derek touching his own dick but things are fine. By the end of the afternoon, Stiles has his legs all over Derek, sprawled out on the couch.

 Derek’s sisters come home and roll their eyes again.

 “Are you a couple yet?” they ask, and both of them grunt.

**

 Their friends’ interest in their relationship peaks over a cycle of a few weeks. They flit between exasperated at their behaviour and angry when they insist that there’s nothing there to acknowledge. Erica tells Stiles one afternoon, a sly smile on her face, “You do realise that you love him, right?”

 Stiles rolls his eyes and he moves his mouth to say no. Something stops him, something pulling at his heart as he realises that he does, he does love Derek. He loves spending time with him, wants so much for him, wants Derek to be happy.

 Erica looks smug but Stiles ignores her. It’s not like that. It’s the same way he loves Scott, or Erica herself, but no one asks if they’re dating. He’s just glad that he’s got Derek in his life somehow and he’s pretty lucky they can call each other friends.

 The thought sits with Stiles for a couple of days. He’s sitting at Derek’s dining table and Derek nudges his ankle with his toes. Stiles blinks at him.

 Derek smiles softly. “You okay?”

 “I was talking to Erica,” Stiles blurts out. “She asked me ... she asked if I loved you and I was thinking, that yeah. I do love you.”

 Derek hesitates and looks down at his fingers. He removes his foot from where’s he’s still touching Stiles’ leg. He doesn’t want to hurt his friend’s feelings and he flushes.

 “I’m sorry, Stiles, I don’t ...” He clears his throat, trying to put it simply. “I don’t feel that way.”

 It takes Stiles a few seconds to catch on, and his eyes narrow before he laughs. “No you doofus,” he elbows Derek’s side. “I love you, like, I care about you and want the best for you and want you to get into the college you want to get into, and I’m here for you and stuff. Not _that_ way.”

 “Oh,” says Derek, and then he smiles. “Yeah, me too.”

 Stiles grins and throws his arms around him, leaning on one leg of his seat. He kisses his cheek, delighting in the way Derek shoves him and the way his face goes pink. Derek’s quick to wrap an arm around Stiles’ waist, though, pulling him in tight and turning his head to smile in Stiles’ hair.

**

 They’ve gotten used to ignoring comments from everyone else, but it’s harder when they’re at a party, all of them with a substantial amount of alcohol in their blood, and Lydia asks if they’ve seen each other naked before.

 Stiles and Derek catch each other’s eye before Derek goes bright red and Stiles bursts out laughing. He’s hiccupping a little, too amused to even begin to tell the story that the rest of them want to hear. Stiles keeps trying to open his mouth, keeps trying to speak, but then Derek starts tickling him in an effort to shut him up. They end up tangled on the floor, a drink knocked over, and their friends are still trying to get the story out of them.

 Derek puts a hand over  Stiles’ mouth and Stiles licks the underside of his palm, eyes shining. Derek scowls.

 “And,” Erica says eagerly, “have you two kissed each other before?”

 Stiles grins again, his teeth gleaming in the light. He gives Derek a messy kiss on his cheek, leaving Derek groaning in frustration, wiping away the kiss with the edge of his sleeve. Stiles pouts.

 “Yes,” he sniggers. “I’ve kissed him.”

 “With tongues?” Erica asks.

 Derek really should expect the way Stiles comes forward and licks a long stripe up his cheek. He pinches Stiles’ side, scowling.

 “There we are, Derek, that’ll shut them up for a bit,” he giggles.

 Derek glares at him. “You’re drunk. Stop trying to kiss me.”

 Stiles boops him on the nose with his finger. “You’re drunk too,” he says.

 It’s easy to blame everything on the alcohol, and it’s easy to forget about everything that happened.

**

 Sometimes, one or the both of them will wake up with morning wood, half tangled around each other and Stiles feeling Derek’s dick against his ass. He’s too tired for this, too tired for the way Derek presses closer in his sleep and lets out a little noise against Stiles’ shoulder blades.

 Stiles elbows him in the gut. “Derek,” he hisses.

 “What,” Derek mumbles, sleepy and a little angry.

 Stiles bucks up against him, feeling Derek’s arms wrapped around his waist. “Please do something about that.”

 Derek freezes next to him. “Sorry,” he moves a little away and sits up, rubbing his eyes.

 He can’t bring himself to look Derek in the eye, settling for huffing quietly and moving to fluff up his pillows again. Stiles tries to get comfortable, tries to forget Derek pressed up against him with those sounds coming out of his mouth. He tries to appear as affronted as possible.

 “It’s not like I’m the only one affected by this,” Derek says moodily.

 Stiles rolls his eyes. “Want to touch my dick and find out?”

 “No,” Derek hisses, shoving him. “God, I hate you. You’re the worst. I’m having a shower.”

 “Have a good time,” Stiles calls out after him.

**

 Stiles’ father sits them down one afternoon, an uncomfortable expression on his face. He says he wants to talk to the two of them. Stiles and Derek look at each other, concerned, but as soon as it’s obvious what the Sheriff wants to talk to the two of them about, they sit back in their seats almost comfortably, Stiles snacking at the food on the table, nodding along to whatever his father is saying.

 “Are you two even listening to me,” he yells out, exasperated. Derek’s looking at his phone under the table.

 “Dad,” Stiles says. “Mrs Hale beat you to this talk, like, a month ago. I have these brochures and condoms upstairs. And lube. She got us that.”

 His father blinks. “You’ve been dating that long?”

 “No,” Derek says, and then he shows Stiles something on his phone. They both laugh. “We’re not dating at all,” he continues absently.

 “Or having sex with each other,” Stiles says as an afterthought.

 The Sheriff stares at them, about to argue but he decides against it. They seem to have everything under control anyway, seem to be handling their feelings well enough if they both agree that they’re not a couple.

**

 It’s one of the last games of the season. Derek has been working with Stiles on the field, getting him into shape, paying attention to his technique and finally – after some tears, a lot of yelling, and Derek telling Stiles to get his head out of his ass – Stiles is playing a game. A full game, because he’s first line now. It’s a good feeling for Stiles, and Derek’s got this thing called pride in his chest when he sees his friend out there.

 The day he scores the winning goal Stiles is so surprised that he just stands there until Derek hollers at him. It hits Stiles then, and when Derek comes running up he launches himself at him and wraps his sweaty arms around Derek’s neck.

 Stiles’ face is flushed and happy, and just as the rest of the team come up, Stiles kisses Derek from happiness, once on the lips before pulling back and cheering some more.

 The initial excitement of winning wears off and their friends, who saw everything, realise what happened.

 “You kissed!” they insist.

 Stiles shrugs, helmet hanging from his fingers. He looks at Derek who looks at him and they shrug again.

 “And you’re still trying to tell us you’re not dating,” Erica snaps.

 “We’re not,” Stiles says lamely. It’s the truth. It’s easy to say. And it doesn’t matter that their friends don’t speak to them for the rest of the evening, too irritated to tolerate them, because they won the game and Stiles has Derek, who helped him get there.

**

Derek and Stiles get voted cutest couple at their senior prom. They both look at each other from where they’re sitting next to each other at the table and Derek rolls his eyes, squeezing Stiles’ knee before he stands. He pulls Stiles to his feet and with one hand on the small of his back, they go towards the stage.

 Lydia looks wickedly pleased with herself. Stiles throws her a filthy look before he tangles his and Derek’s fingers together. Stiles gives him a kiss on the cheek. Their peers and friends eat it all up, and Derek and Stiles stop trying to correct those who assume they’re a couple.

**

 All of their friends are clumped in one room, sleeping against each other amidst blankets, sleeping bags and pillows. Derek and Stiles, for once, are sleeping at opposite ends of the room. Stiles finds that he can’t sleep, eyes wide even though it’s four in the morning and he’s desperately tired.

 He heads into the kitchen and pours some cereal into a bowl.

 Half an hour later, Stiles spots Derek by the door, rubbing his eyes and looking at Stiles without a word. Derek blinks a few times before he comes over, leaning against Stiles’ back and putting his chin on Stiles’ shoulder.

 “You okay?” Stiles asks.

 “Yeah,” says Derek. “Yeah. I was just thinking.”

 “Mm?” asks Stiles, pushing away his empty bowl. He feels Derek sigh next to his ear.

 “About what our friends all say about us.”

 Stiles looks down. He can feel everything disappearing, because they were okay, before. Everything was fine, despite what people said, and they were friends and now Derek’s going to find some excuse to push himself away. “Is it, is it starting to bother you?” he asks quietly.

 Derek shakes his head and fumbles around for the seat next to Stiles. The room is still half dark, and Derek stares forward, his expression carefully neutral. Stiles reaches out and pushes Derek’s cheek to the side, forcing their eyes to meet. Their gaze holds for a lot longer than necessary, and Stiles pushes back Derek’s hair from his face and runs a hand through it, stopping to scratch at the base of his neck.

 Derek sighs and puts his arms and head on the counter top, trying to shuffle his way closer to Stiles. He loses himself in the feeling of Stiles running his nails through his hair, silence around them, and sleep is close to claiming Derek.

 He turns his head and looks up at his friend.

 “Have you ever thought about it?” Derek asks.

 “What?”

 “Thought about us dating.”

 Stiles drops his hand. “Derek.”

 “I,” Derek sits up and grabs Stiles’ hand. “I hadn’t, until recently –”

  “Is this because I kissed you at the game? Because if it is, I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable –”

 Derek glares at him. “Stiles, shut up. It’s not because you kissed me. It was after that,” his voice trails off, “I’ve just been thinking about it. “

 Stiles looks at him, mouth open slightly, unsure.

 “Please, I, will you think about it? I want to try. Just try. It doesn’t have to be anything else, please.”

 Derek takes his hand back. Stiles blinks, mouth moving but not speaking. His voice sounds a little strangled when he does. “Okay,” he says, “I’ll, I’ll think about it.” Derek leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Stiles’ lips. He offers him a crooked smile.

 “Thanks,” he says, and then he heads back into the living room. Stiles groans and drops his head to his hands, a mess of nervousness in his stomach, and he knows he’s got to figure out what he wants.

**

 They have a couple of days to think, or at least, a couple of days to avoid thinking. For once their friends haven’t actually picked up on anything, haven’t picked up on the tension beneath Derek’s skin. All of them are meeting up at the Hale house. Stiles is late.

 Derek spends the whole hour they wait on the porch staring at the driveway. He’s not sure why he’s so nervous, just knows that since he asked Stiles for something, he wanted. He hadn’t wanted so much now that he’s waiting on an answer.

 Stiles’ blue jeep comes up the driveway and Derek hears his own heart beating in his ears. It’s about a month before any of them have to move out of state, to colleges, to new lives, and Derek’s glad he and Stiles will be only a couple of hours away from each other.

 “Hey guys,” Stiles says when he comes up the steps. Derek hears them all talking and he waits for Stiles’ eyes to meet his, waits for some acknowledgement of what he said in the early morning a few days ago. When Stiles does look at him, they both stop moving. Derek feels like he’s going crazy, waiting for something, waiting for nothing, he doesn’t know, and he watches Stiles press his lips together, like he’s almost forgotten about what Derek asked, and Stiles –

 Stiles sees Derek’s hopeful look. He sees his shy gaze and the way he searches Stiles’ face for an answer. He sees the way his face falls when Stiles doesn’t have what he’s looking for. Stiles’ own heart flips. He feels a nervous thrill go up his arms and legs because Derek’s looking like it’s over before it’s even begun and Stiles now at least wants it to start.

 “Derek,” he croaks. Derek turns back to him, his gaze sharp. “Yeah,” Stiles says, “yeah, okay.”

 Derek’s lips part and his eyes crinkle into a smile. He looks back down at his hands and Stiles sits next to Scott, hardly hearing what he’s saying because he keeps on glancing at Derek. They’re going to try something.

 **

 Stiles rings up Derek twenty minutes before he’s supposed to arrive and take him on a date. A date. Despite all their friends’ nudging, he never really expected it to get to this. Derek answers nervously, like he’s afraid Stiles has changed his mind.

 “What do I wear?” Stiles demands before Derek can get another word out.

 “What?”

 “Clothes, Derek!” he shrieks. “I’ve gone through my whole wardrobe and I have no idea what to wear.” Stiles feels the frustration creep all over him. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, he doesn’t know what tonight means for him and Derek, and he doesn’t want to make a mess of their friendship.

 “Um,” he says.

 Stiles’ nostrils flare. “Derek.”

 “Just wear anything.”

 “This is a date,” Stiles snaps. “I can’t just wear anything.”

 “I’ve seen you wearing absolutely everything that you own, Stiles,” Derek’s voice is fond. “It doesn’t matter.”

 Stiles sighs and collapses on his bed. He’s still in his boxers, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sound of Derek’s breathing in his ear.

 “Wear that red top,” Derek says quietly. “And those black jeans. I like them.”

 Stiles sits up. “You do?” he echoes.

 “Yes,” Derek pauses. “Please stop panicking. I’m coming over now, so you better not be in only your boxers by the time I knock on your door.”

 There’s a moment of silence and Stiles bites his lip. “Don’t you want to see me in my boxers?”

 Derek lets out a startled laugh. The tension slowly slides off Stiles’ shoulders and he realises that he’s got Derek here, he has Derek, coming here soon and everything will be fine. It will be fine.

**

 Their date is full of being far too polite, of keeping their distance physically when normally they’d be all over each other. Derek feels his hands go clammy and his stomach swoops constantly. He’s afraid that after tonight, Stiles won’t want this.

 They manage to laugh a few times. It’s good, and it’s easy to be around each other. It doesn’t stop Derek from being nervous and Stiles looks worried too, like they’re going to lose something. Derek tries to distract him.

 At the end of the night, they walk shoulder to shoulder up to Stiles’ front door. Stiles turns to him.

 “I had fun,” he says.

 “Yeah,” Derek says back. He sighs and they stare each other, getting a little lost in it. There’s a question there, one that asks if this is worth it. Derek catches his breath, because it is, it’s Stiles and it must be. “Come here,” he says softly, because Stiles is now looking away from him, tapping his foot against the ground.

 He cups Stiles’ elbows and draws him forward, till Derek’s back is against the front door and Stiles is right up in his space. It all feels like a dream.

 “Derek,” he says, looking down.

 “I promise everything will work out,” Derek breathes against Stiles’ cheek. “I promise. We’ll always be friends, if whatever this is works out or not, we’ll always be friends. You’re my best friend.”

 Stiles looks up. His hands grip at Derek’s shirt and he comes in, the edges of their shoes next to each other. He runs his nose down Derek’s cheek, his own heart fluttering. He presses a soft kiss to Derek’s lips and then pulls away slightly. Derek straightens against the door, leaning close to Stiles’ again.

 “Come here,” he says again He puts a hand to the back of Stiles’ neck and urges him forward, pressing harder against his lips. Stiles’ mouth goes slack for a moment, opening, and Derek nibbles at Stiles’ lower lip, darting out his tongue.

 Stiles makes a sound, stuttering out a breath, and then his hands clench at Derek and he surges forward, knocking Derek’s head back into the door. Their mouths press hot and hard against each other, their tongues meeting, and Derek clutches him closer, running a hand through Stiles’ hair and feeling heat travel through him everywhere.

 Because it’s Stiles in his arms, Stiles, and Derek cares so deeply about him, wants everything for him, wants to love him as much as he can. And he always knew that, in a way, but it’s really hitting now, and it feels so good having Stiles against him.

 Stiles pulls back suddenly, his lips red, shiny and wet. He’s staring at Derek like he’s never seen him before, hands shaking against Derek’s chest.

 “Are you,” he says quietly, “are you feeling all that too?”

 Derek simply nods, breathing heavily and looking between Stiles’ eyes and his mouth.

 Stiles lifts a hand and runs his finger down Derek’s cheek. His thumb moves over Derek’s parted lips. His pupils are blown. Stiles leans forward and seals their mouths together again. It’s perfect.

 Eventually they untangle themselves from each other, panting and cheeks hot. Derek leaves with a smile on his face, feeling far too light, feeling like everything in the world has happened all at once.

**

 Stiles comes over to Derek’s house, school books in his arms. Mrs Hale walks him up the stairs and everything’s all so new, and seemingly fragile. Stiles had left their date with his heart blooming in his chest, feeling so much, needing more but not sure what that would bring. That night he couldn’t sleep, the feel of Derek against him in his mind.

 Derek lowers his magazine when he spots Stiles in the doorway, offering him a smile.

 “See you later boys,” Mrs Hale calls out to them. “I’m off to your sister’s recital.”

 Stiles gently closes the bedroom door and they listen to Mrs Hale’s footsteps fade. He moves over to the edge of Derek’s bed, looking at his fingers. Derek holds in his breath.

 “Everything okay?” Derek asks.

 “Just nervous,” Stiles admits, coming closer. His knee knocks into Derek’s calf, his smile hesitant. “Can I just do my homework here? I wanted to be here with you.”

 Derek nods eagerly, moving so that’s there’s more room for Stiles on the bed. He returns to what he’s reading, skin thrumming with energy, being more aware of Stiles in his room than he’s ever been before. He remembers their kiss. As if he could forget it.

 It takes a while before his attention is back to the words on the page, and half an hour later, he notices that Stiles is lying on his side, resting his head on his hand as he stares at Derek.

 “Like what you see,” Derek teases.

 Stiles rolls his eyes. “Maybe.”

 Derek drops the magazine instantly, it falling to the floor. He moves down the bed so that he’s at eye level with Stiles. He wants to make sure everything’s okay, that no one’s regretting anything. “Are you sure –”

 Stiles lurches up and kisses him, lips rough. He pulls back straight away, eyes down. “You’re, you’re my best friend, Derek. I’m worried we’ll fuck it up somehow.”

 “Impossible,” Derek breathes, leaning in. He brings his lips to Stiles, barely brushing them together before a hand reaches down to Stiles’ hip and urges him to move over Derek’s body. Stiles eagerly climbs over him, legs straddling Derek and pressing in tight.

 They stare at each other.

 Derek moves his hand down, squeezing around Stiles’ ass and he grins.

 “Oh my god,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes, but he kisses Derek hard and insistent. He gets lost in it quickly.

 Derek can feel Stiles getting hard against him and he grinds his hips up, smiling when Stiles moans into his mouth. He pushes Stiles over, kissing across his jaw and down his neck, pushing up his shirt and making his way down Stiles’ body, both hands moving leisurely over his chest. Derek stops when his palms reach the inside of Stiles’ thighs.

 Stiles sits up a little, trying to keep his breaths even.

 “Is this okay,” Derek whispers. He watches the way Stiles’ throat moves when he swallows and nods, eyes dark as Derek rubs a hand over Stiles’ dick through his pants. Stiles throws his head back.

 “Yes, fuck, it’s okay.”

 “Have you done this before?” Derek asks.

 Stiles grimaces. “I would’ve told you. I tell you everything.”

 Derek leans forward to the strip of skin above Stiles’ waistband, kissing and licking and making a mark. He undoes Stiles’ jeans and Stiles sits back up again to watch the way Derek leans over, tongue tracing the outline of Stiles’ cock through his underwear.

 “Still good?” Derek asks.

 Stiles nods vigorously, and he looks beautiful up there, lips open, eyes dark. Derek’s hard in his own pants, loving the way Stiles is watching him, loving the small noises coming out of Stiles’ mouth as he sucks on the head of Stiles’ cock through the fabric.

 “Off,” Stiles demands. “Please, off.” He wiggles his hips, lifting them up so Derek can slide his clothes off properly. Derek grins, not waiting, not teasing this time. He takes Stiles’ dick into his mouth.

 It doesn’t last very long, but it’s long enough to hear Stiles fall apart, to get Derek so hard in his pants as he swallows him down, holding Stiles’ hips so that he doesn’t thrust forward into Derek’s mouth too much. He feels Stiles tremble as he orgasms, swearing, and a hand comes up to thread his fingers through Derek’s hair, patting it, stroking, making Derek feel like he’s everything as he makes Stiles feel good.

 “Come here,” Stiles says, “Derek, come here.” He grabs Derek’s shoulders, urging him up the bed so that he can kiss him, mouth open, tongues against each other. Derek’s struggling to get his pants undone, and they both go for the zipper. He bites Stiles’ lip when he finally feels Stiles’ hand around his cock.

 Derek buries his head into Stiles’ shoulder, barely thrusting into his hand before he’s coming.

 “Wow,” Stiles says, when Derek’s calmed down. He sits up a little and reaches for the tissues by Derek’s bed, trying to clean themselves up. His smile looks more at ease and he tugs his pants back up. Derek rolls over onto his back, staring up at Stiles. He licks his lips.

 “We should do that again,” Derek says.

 Stiles grins. “Yep.” He comes forward and presses a kiss to Derek’s jaw. “So,” he says. “Which one of us is going to tell our friends we’re together.”

 Derek groans. “You can. You definitely can.”

 He turns over, and he thinks that the feeling of things going wrong, of not being able to take anything back, will fade completely. Maybe they both should’ve listened to their friends sooner.


End file.
